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At noon, as he walked through Archivarius Lindhorst's garden, he could not help wondering how all this had once appeared so strange and marvelous to him. He now saw nothing but common, earthen flowerpots, quantities of geraniums, myrtles, and the like.
Notwithstanding the distance of the solitary street where the Archivarius Lindhorst's very ancient residence lay, the student Anselmus was at the front door before the stroke of twelve.
On returning to his senses, he was lying on his own poor truckle-bed; Conrector Paulmann was standing before him, and saying: "For Heaven's sake, what mad stuff is this, dear Herr Anselmus?" Archivarius Lindhorst's Garden, with some Mocking birds. The Golden Pot. English current-hand. Pot-hooks. The Prince of the Spirits.
"It may be, after all," said the student Anselmus to himself, "that the superfine, strong, stomachic liqueur, which I took somewhat freely at Monsieur Conradi's, might really be the cause of all these shocking phantasms which so tortured me at Archivarius Lindhorst's door. Therefore, I will go quite sober today, and so bid defiance to whatever further mischief may assail me."
You will put up with a bad dinner; then Veronica will make us delightful coffee, which we shall drink with Registrator Heerbrand, for he promised to come hither." "All, best Herr Conrector!" answered the student Anselmus, "are you not aware that I must go to Archivarius Lindhorst's and copy?" "Look you, Amice!" said Conrector Paulmann, holding up his watch, which pointed to half-past twelve.
"Gray fiddlesticks!" interrupted the Conrector; "it was nothing but Archivarius Lindhorst's little old Famulus, who had thrown a gray cloak over him and was seeking the student Anselmus." "It may be," answered Registrator Heerbrand, "but, I must confess, I am quite downcast in spirit; the whole night through there was such a piping and organing."
And yet while his whole soul was turned to the sweet Serpentina and the wonders of Archivarius Lindhorst's fairy kingdom, he could not help now and then thinking of Veronica; nay, often it seemed as if she came before him and confessed with blushes how heartily she loved him, how much she longed to rescue him from the phantoms which were mocking and befooling him.
Ere long Veronica came in to him, with a peaceful and friendly look, and asked him why, in his intoxication, he had so alarmed her; and desired him to be on his guard against new imaginations, while working at Archivarius Lindhorst's. "Good night, good night, my beloved friend!" whispered Veronica, scarce audibly, and breathed a kiss on his lips.
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